


Skin Deep

by AllyC



Category: Chinese Actor RPF, 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BJYX | Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean is Real, Canon Compliant, M/M, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyC/pseuds/AllyC
Summary: Not everyone in the world had a soulmate, so the day Wang Yibo’s parents saw the colors blooming on their son’s skin, their hearts soared for him.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean
Comments: 73
Kudos: 496
Collections: BJYX Secret Santa





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kidhuzural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kidhuzural/gifts).
  * Translation into Türkçe available: [Skin Deep](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660395) by [chxbbh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxbbh/pseuds/chxbbh)



> Happy holidays, Cas. I hope you enjoy this little gift. 
> 
> Thanks to D for the beta.

Not everyone in the world had a soulmate, so the day Wang Yibo’s parents saw the colors blooming on their son’s skin, their hearts soared for him. Having a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee of happiness, not even a guarantee that you would be able to meet them in a world so vast, but it gave hope and knowledge that somewhere out there was a person who was made for you. Who was the other half of your heart.

Yibo liked to watch the doodles spread across his skin. For the most part, they were centered on his hands, and sometimes they crawled up his forearms. Over time they morphed from the colorful splatters of a child finger painting to discernable images. Cats, dogs, simplistic people, flowers -- it seemed with each passing day the drawings became more detailed, and Yibo found himself admiring each picture, making sure never to mark up his own skin so that whoever was on the other end would have a clean canvas to create. 

He would never admit that he missed the colors. They became rarer and rarer over time, and Yibo could only assume it was because his soulmate was doodling in pen during class instead of whatever they did at home. 

While his soulmate seemed to love art, Yibo found himself falling in love with dance. It had become his world and his comfort, and he wished he could share it with his soulmate in the same way. 

But there was no way to write the movements of his body on his skin. The only thing he could potentially share were the scrapes and bruises that littered his skin, but he knew that they didn’t share injuries. Either that or his soulmate had somehow never been injured in his life.

He was never more thankful that they didn’t share pain than as he laid in the hospital, hooked to an IV, being told he had to give up the thing he loved the most. His heart felt broken, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the myocarditis or reality having crashed down around him. 

Lines began to spread across the back of his hand. Pieces of the image were lost to the tape and needle currently residing there, but there was a certain comfort in seeing those lines. It was impossible the person on the other end knew anything about what was happening to him, but he felt seen by the swirling patterns, abstract and beautiful, and when color began to appear between the lines, the image became a blur as he swallowed back tears.

Yibo had never thought to write a message on his skin. He’d always kept himself as free of marks as possible so he could cherish the art that appeared, the flecks of color and smudges of graphite on the heel of his palm, or, less often, the carefully drawn characters that looked like personal reminders. Those were the rarest things to appear on his skin, and he wondered if his soulmate also avoided writing on himself, preferring to save space for drawing.

Something called to him now, though, as the blending colors stitched up a small part of his heart. A reminder that he could still heal. He took a pen from the side table next to him and paused for only a second before writing on the forearm opposite the art. It was awkward with the IV drip, and his handwriting was the bane of every one of his teachers as it was, but he penned a simple, ‘ _Thank you_ ,’ across his arm in shaky characters. 

As soon as he wrote it, the drawing on his opposite arm stopped. 

Yibo waited. 

And waited. 

He began to fear he’d broken some taboo or that perhaps his soulmate was offended by the writing. Just as he heard the beeping of the heart monitor begin to speed -- and, oh, he hoped it didn’t alert anyone to come check on him, words began to appear beneath his own, the writing crisp and clear.

‘ _I didn’t realize anyone could see_.’

It was like he had been hit in the face. Yibo had never thought about the fact his soulmate might not know that he existed. He’d tried as hard as he could to keep himself clean so he could enjoy the writing that appeared. 

He never connected the dots to the fact his soulmate would never have the same pleasure of seeing lines appear across their skin. 

Yibo gripped the pen tighter, trying to make his lines steadier, as though that would translate to honesty, and he wrote, ‘ _I’m sorry._ ’

‘ _You don’t need to be sorry. I’m happy to know you’re there._ ’

A pause and then another line beneath the first.

‘ _Why thank me?_ '

He didn’t know how to answer that. His train of thought didn’t really make sense, he was pretty sure. It had just felt right. Instead, he grabbed a tissue and dipped it in his cup of water to erase what he’d written to make room for more. It was strange seeing his own words disappear, while the others stay solid and clear. Words weren’t his strong point, but Yibo pursed his lips, thinking about what to say, before continuing. 

‘ _Do you like art? Like…a lot?_ ’

‘ _Yes. I want to go to school for it._ ’

This was the first time that Yibo realized his soulmate might not be the same age as him. Their writing was so neat, and they were already talking about school specialties. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t really care, but he wondered if they found out would they would think he was a baby or be upset?

He’d just have to do his best to prove his worth and that he wasn’t a baby.

‘ _What if a doctor said you couldn’t draw anymore?_ ’ The words stared back at him, and he immediately wanted to wipe them away. He didn’t know if it was because he didn’t want to sound weak or if it was because he didn’t want to face the words, but they looked uglier than all the others. 

‘ _I’d be heartbroken._ ’

Yibo stared at the words with a frown. They didn’t know, but it still needled at him.

‘ _Are you okay?_ ’

He wasn’t sure how long he and the other person wrote back and forth. Whoever was on the other end was very kind and had assured Yibo that he’d get better. That he sounded like a hard worker. He would be okay and he could still chase his dreams. 

Yibo learned less about his soulmate, but somehow that didn’t really matter to him. What he did learn was the most important fact.

He learned they were someone special.

It was not long after that the drawings on his arms stopped. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t have too much time to lament over it as he was swept away to Korea and quickly overwhelmed with a new country, a new language, and the chance of a lifetime if he only worked hard enough.

Seungyoun was the one who pointed it out when green lines began to climb over his hand one day while they were eating dinner. Yibo stopped eating long enough to turn his hand over and admire the lines with a soft smile. He was sure he would get teased about it by the older boys later. 

That night he drew a heart on the back of his hand. It was stupid, but he wanted to let the other know he saw their drawing. A heart wasn’t too weird, right? They were soulmates afterall. And they had helped him through his myocarditis. It was symbolic. It made sense. 

Next to the heart, a small dot appeared, drawn in by the other, like a period after the image. He didn’t really know what it meant, but it made him smile. Maybe he’d start adding it to all of his hearts. Except the ones on his hands. For those, it was his soulmate’s job to add the dot.

His soulmate wrote that he’d been rejected from the art school he’d wanted to attend and that drawing had felt difficult. It was Yibo’s turn, this time, to try and comfort the other person. He didn’t really know what to say, but he wrote that the school was clearly stupid and that the drawings he saw were beautiful -- and those were just doodles Whoever they were, his soulmate had to very, very skilled.

A few days later he woke up to a painting on his arm. Not just a doodle, but a full blown piece of art. He had no idea how someone could manage to draw such a thing, let alone on their own skin. Yibo didn’t know anything about art, but he knew beauty and talent. The picture he made Yixuan take of it for him was set as his phone background immediately.

They didn’t really have many in-depth conversations, but when something happened in their lives, they made sure to share it, good or bad. They celebrated together and comforted each other. 

Honestly, they still didn’t know very much about each other. Yibo had written that he was in Korea now, but he hadn’t really mentioned the whole idol thing. Just that he was dancing and working hard so that he could make a living off of it. 

He didn’t want the first physical impression his soulmate had to be from searching UNIQ on Baidu. There was enough about his maknae image in UNIQ that was created, fiction, and not really him. He wanted to meet his soulmate one day and introduce himself as just plain Wang Yibo.

His soulmate had ended up in school for graphic design. Based on that, Yibo figured they had to be at least five or six years older than him. It didn’t really bother him. Yixuan was older than him by a similar amount. Age was just a number. 

The other was a hard worker and had started their own design company. Yibo felt a certain welling pride in his chest. It took a lot of work and guts to do something like that. They were similar, Yibo and his soulmate. He liked it.

One day in 2015, Yibo had looked at his arm and seen a message that simply read, ‘I’m going to do something ridiculous. Wish me luck.’ He did, but there was no follow up. In fact, silence followed for some time, and Yibo hoped that they were at safe, at least, whatever the stupid action had been.

His soulmate later assured him they were okay and also said they weren’t doing design anymore. They had taken a chance -- because they knew Yibo would want them to, and decided to chase a different dream. They didn’t expound upon that, and Yibo wasn’t going to press. 

That wasn’t how their relationship worked.

That’s what it was in his heart. A relationship. Despite having never met, there was something there, in his heart, in his soul, that just knew. He supposed that was what having a soulmate meant, but feeling it was different from knowing the words. He wondered if his soulmate felt the same as he returned to China, uncertainty obscuring his future due to the Hallyu Ban.

He landed on his feet. Yibo was thankful, but he also knew his own determination. From now on he had a permanent spot on Day Day Up, and that gave him stability while he explored other venues: dance performances, acting, trying to get his claws into the industry again as a solo act. 

UNIQ wasn’t dead in the water yet, and he didn’t want them to be, but being a hybrid Korean-Chinese band when one country was banning entertainment from the other didn’t seem good for longevity. It broke his heart, but they’d all make it through, and maybe one day, the ban would lift, and things would work out again.

Yibo’s arms had been more often blank than not since the day he’d received that cryptic message about doing something stupid. He wasn’t sure why, and he didn’t know what it meant, but asking for clarification, for more, felt strange. 

If his soulmate had wanted to explain, they would have. They’d never had a problem with such things in the past. Yibo held things back as well. It was early morning, and he wrote that he had gotten a steady job. The job wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but he could use his dance skills and it gave him connections that could branch him out. 

He didn’t expect the reply that came quickly after congratulating him. Maybe his soulmate’s new venture had early hours? Yibo filed the knowledge away for later.

It turned out it wasn’t just early hours. 

Sometimes they’d respond to the late-night writings Yibo left. The kind of messages he was never sure if they’d see before he had to shower in the morning and go out again. It was like their hours were almost as erratic as his own. That sucked for them, but it did make him glad to know he wasn’t alone.

When X9 guested on Day Day Up, he didn’t know much about them, but one of the members stood out to him. Xiao Zhan. He was gorgeous with a brilliant smile and a stupid laugh that had rung in his ears. Yibo felt guilty. Like he was cheating, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. One of his brothers had noticed and gotten the other boy’s WeChat info for him. He added it to his phone, but that had been the extent of it. Every time he thought about messaging Xiao Zhan, his arms would begin to itch, and he’d lock his phone again.

Drawings were still painfully infrequent, and they didn’t chat as much as they once had. Yibo believed it was because they were both busy. He had to believe that because any other option ached. Notes became more common. Yibo would find them on his palms instead of the backs of his hands. Reminders of times and places, flights, and sometimes music annotations. They were comforting, though in a different way than the drawings had been. They proved that his soulmate was busy too, if the notes were any indication. 

Sometimes Yibo would write 'Good luck!’ or draw a quick heart. He always received encouragement back in return. The hearts always had a small dot added next to them.

He buried his guilt and submitted and resubmitted his headshots for a part in The Untamed. He flew out in person to show them who he was. To get a real chance based on more than his face.

He got the part. 

Yibo told himself it wasn't because Xiao Zhan was to be the other lead. It was work.

He wondered if his soulmate ever saw him.

Working with Xiao Zhan was pure joy. They clicked almost immediately, and there was something between them that Yibo had never had before. At least not face to face. Their back and forth toed the line of obvious flirtation, but neither made an effort to tone it down or stop. They were playing a very dangerous game of gay chicken. Dangerous because Yibo was pretty sure neither of them were chickens.

His hands remained empty. The longer they remained blank, the more his guilt cleared. Having a soulmate wasn’t a guarantee of happiness, not even a guarantee that you would be able to meet them in a world so vast, but in front of him was someone who made him smile every day they saw each other, who made him feel right.

He wanted to kiss him.

They were in the forest shooting a poster for the Dragon Boat Festival. Yibo had asked Xiao Zhan out to dinner that night. It hadn’t been framed as anything more than just getting a meal, but Yibo was pretty sure they both knew that it could maybe be more. His nerves were wound-up and he was talking Xiao Zhan’s ear off about racing and suit design. He was being patently ridiculous, but it was this or think in silence while they both held fans to their faces. Besides, Xiao Zhan smiled and nodded along, talking about how he could design something for him. 

There was a pang of guilt at that, but it was easily overpowered by elation. 

He did kiss him that night. 

They went back to the hotel after dinner and to Xiao Zhan’s room to play video games. Yibo had a flight in the morning, and Xiao Zhan’s call time wasn’t too exceedingly early. Mostly Yibo was pretty sure neither of them wanted the evening to end. When it came to an end, either something would have happened between them, or nothing would have changed. Both options carried their own brand of anxiety with them. 

He was hoping for something.

They’d been scuffling after Yibo had, yet again, trounced Xiao Zhan in the game they were playing, and Xiao Zhan had whined in that way he had that floated somewhere being adorable and angry. Yibo loved it, and it was probably a large part of why he enjoyed teasing Xiao Zhan so much on set. He was sure a truly, fully angry Xiao Zhan would be terrifying, with his Chongqing temper, but riling him up like this was too much fun. 

It was so easy to grab Xiao Zhan’s arms and hold him back during their play fights. Yibo might have liked a bit too much how easily he was able to manhandle him around on set when they were goofing off. He also might have liked a bit too much the fact Xiao Zhan seemed to enjoy it just as much. 

For now he was holding Xiao Zhan in place above him on the couch with the other’s arms crossed over his chest. Taking his chance, Yibo lowered him down, giving the other every chance to show struggle or tell him to stop, before pressing their lips together.

It wasn’t his first kiss, but it was the first kiss that meant anything and it was like everything in his body lit up in that moment. Not in the burning way of desire, at least not entirely, but like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly a light was on in his soul. 

Parting their lips, Yibo shifted their bodies, sitting them up, and looked at Xiao Zhan questioningly.

His only answer was Xiao Zhan leaning in to return his kiss with another. 

They only kissed that night, laughing at each other quietly from time to time, and sat up talking and playing games. Being honest about what they were and weren’t expecting from the other and the reality of their schedules and the industry. They both wanted to try, though, really try, and Yibo felt like he was on Cloud Nine.

Going to the airport was a struggle, and his assistant had given him a side-eye when he showed up in the same clothes they’d left the restaurant in the night before, but she hadn’t said anything.

While he was on the plane, lines began to cross the back of his hand, and Yibo watched them hesitantly. He didn’t want to give up what was real and great in his life for something that was meant to be great but was so far nothing more than a fairytale. At first, he wasn’t quite sure what the drawing was. It was abstract and he couldn’t tell what it was meant to be. A logo? Or maybe writing? It stayed around for only a few minutes before disappearing.

Disembarking, he turned his phone on and grinned at seeing a message from Xiao Zhan. Even better, it had an image attached. He loved each and every dumb selfie he was sent and had a hidden folder on his phone filled with them. 

But this wasn’t a selfie. It was a picture of the back of Xiao Zhan’s hand, with a familiar symbol drawn on it, though the image was reversed from what Yibo had seen on his own hand not long ago. Beneath the picture was some explanation about using it on a motorcycle suit design and how it looked like a skateboarder, but it could also be used for safety and even ‘bo’ in Korean. It could have meant anything. 

None of that mattered in the moment as he stared at the image and felt his own hand itch. 

It all clicked into place and he couldn’t help but laugh. His assistant turned to give him a look, eyebrow raised as though wondering if he had lost his mind. He had, maybe, a bit. Grinning, he held out his hand, asking for a pen, before turning his arm over to write on his forearm in a familiar way he hadn’t done in so long.

‘ _Zhan-ge, I think we have a lot to talk about._

  
_I like the logo._ ’  


  
  



End file.
